if I can get back safely."

"Dan'el and me'll go with you, and take Tiger and the lantern. They're
all afraid of the dog, if I haven't lamed him."

She went to the door and called Daniel. He came in presently, with Tiger
limping after him.

"You give him an unmerciful blow; a leetle more and he'd never barked
again."

"Bring him in and I'll give him a bone and rub the sore place with
liniment."

"Let me feed him," I begged. "I want to make friends with him."

"You'd best not put your hands on him. He don't make free with
strangers."

I took the bone; to my regret it was picked nearly bare, and I idly
resolved Tiger should have a good solid dinner the next day, if he and
I survived the mishaps of the night.

"Poor fellow! I am very, very sorry I have caused you so much pain," I
said, giving him the bone and patting his huge head fearlessly.

"Look out!" Daniel said, warningly.

"You needn't be afeard," his mother said. "Tiger knows quality."

Whether he was as knowing in this respect as she asserted, he gnawed his
bone and let me stroke his shaggy coat, while Mrs. Blake bathed his
bruised back.

"There, he'll be all right now in no time; and Dan'el, you get the
lantern and we'll go back to Oaklands with Miss Selwyn."

Daniel got up wearily, and did as his mother bade. After his hard day's
work in the mill he would willingly, no doubt, have been excused
escorting damsels in distress to their homes.

Mrs. Blake soon came out of her room with her bonnet and shawl on--the
former one without a veil, which she excused on the ground that dew took
the stiffening out of crape--"Leastways," she added, "the kind I wear."
Tiger followed us, and more in mercy to him than the tired Daniel, I
insisted on going home alone once we had got beyond the precincts of the
Mill Road. I met with no further adventure, and reached my own room in
safety, fondly hoping no one in the house was aware of my evening's
ramble, and one that I determined should never be repeated. My cheeks
burned even after my light was extinguished, and my head throbbed on the
pillow at Mr. Winthrop's biting sarcasm if he knew the risk I had just
run from bipeds and quadrupeds, with Daniel Blake, his mother and dog as
body-guard past the danger of Mill Road ruffianism.

CHAPTER X.

A HELPING HAND.

The following morning I went down to breakfast with some trepidation, and
feeling very much like a culprit. Mrs. Flaxman came into the room first